


By Design

by Bunnyhops



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Humor, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-30
Updated: 2016-08-30
Packaged: 2018-08-12 00:22:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7913206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bunnyhops/pseuds/Bunnyhops
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a short Veela + slight marriage law equals this one shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	By Design

**Author's Note:**

> Hermione is slightly OOC

_Disclaimer: I own nothing._

 

“She’s been like that for hours,” Harry said, looking down at his friend with concern.  He turned to his partner, who was also eying the despondent witch; eyebrow raised, indicating exasperation.

Draco sighed, and spoke directly to Hermione. “The floor is not going to open up and swallow you.  You’ll have to face it at some point, better sooner rather than later.”

With her hair fanned around her head, and her body becoming quite uncomfortable on the hard wood floors, she blinked at Draco’s words. Her eyes were still puffy and red-rimmed from sobbing in misery after she had heard the news, which was, of course, delivered by her now nemesis, Ginny Weasley. 

After Hermione and Ron had a public falling out, Ginny had felt the need to assassinate the character of one Hermione Granger, war heroine and brains of the Golden Trio.  Ginny had revealed and embellished upon every detail of Hermione’s summer stays at the Burrow.  That was years ago, and no one really believed anything written in the magazines, but it made for an entertaining series of articles, which made Romilda Vane, who interned under the currently retired Rita Skeeter, a household name.  She had gone on to create a whole quarterly series of ‘ _Reveal Me_ ’ articles on different celebrities, making her a very popular gossip columnist.

 Harry rolled his eyes.  “Really, Hermione, why are you so upset?  You practically swoon at the mere mention of the man!”

Hermione rolled over, closer to the heat of the fire. “So not the point, Harry,” she mumbled.

Pippa, Hermione’s only house-elf, one she’d rescued after the war, popped in with a missive from the Ministry.  Draco took the parchment and nodded in dismissal. 

Hermione turned to face the two men when she heard Draco chuckle.  She took a moment to marvel at their bent heads and almost unconscious need to touch each other.  Hermione’s mind drifted back to when Draco entered their lives as a friend and not an enemy. 

He had revealed to Harry, in front of Hermione and Ron, that Harry was his mate and that he hated that fact as much, if not more, than any one of them.

Ron, who in complete character, had flipped his lid; ranting and raving and threatening both Harry and Draco.  It had been Hermione who had stepped in and asked that they give Draco the benefit of the doubt.  Much to everyone’s surprise, Ron had calmed enough to sit and wait for Draco to speak.

After Draco, Harry, and Hermione had recovered from their shock, Draco had told them the whole history of the Malfoy men and their Veela ancestry.  Mates for were for life and had a distinctive smell, making the Veela react as if they were pulled towards his mate. 

As a barrister for the Ministry, Draco worked closely with Harry, who was an Auror.  Draco had fought the pull for weeks before he succumbed and confronted Harry. 

Upon Draco’s revelation, Harry had smiled shyly, and nodded, taking it all in.  Hermione smiled at them both, realizing that Draco had a fighting chance at winning Harry’s heart.

At that point, Ron stood, shook his head, and stormed out of Harry’s study right after disowning his two best friends.

“This is the official notification from the Ministry, with an apology that the news was leaked and published before they had a chance to send out the notices.”

Draco and Harry looked up at the same time to see Hermione smiling softly at them.  She did that often; she was just happy for them and they each knew that she loved them both.  It was also a sad smile, one that said that she didn’t think she would ever find someone to love her unconditionally.

The moment passed and Hermione flopped backwards with a thump. “Maybe they should have sent him an apology for being paired with me.”

“You’re being silly,” Harry scolded.  He could deal with an angry Hermione, a smart and clinical Hermione, lecture-mode Hermione and bubbly Hermione, but sad Hermione was different; he just didn’t know how to deal with her.

Draco decided to take matters into his own hands; he sat down on the floor and slid up to her, putting her head on his lap.  He then began to massage her hair like he did when she had a migraine. “Hermione,” he said his voice soft and soothing.

She closed her eyes and sighed happily, his long fingers were made for massaging scalps; at least as far as she was concerned.

“You don’t give yourself enough credit.  You’re a wonderful witch; loyal, trustworthy and beautiful both inside and out.  He’s a lucky wizard, and there’s no doubt in my mind that he’ll recognize that immediately.”

Hermione turned her head up to look at him. “You think I’m beautiful?”

Draco chuckled and Harry snorted from the couch. “All those nice things I said, and all you hear is that I think you’re beautiful?”

She thought about that for a second then nodded.

“Yes, I think you’re beautiful,” he confirmed.

“I think you’re beautiful, too, Draco; but you’re father… he is- he is sooo –“

She was interrupted by a sharp tug to a strand of hair. “We know, Granger.  He’s the cat’s meow,” Draco deadpanned.

“’Mione, I’m sure that Lucius will be proud to call you his wife,” Harry added from the couch.  He and Draco shared a look; a look that said they knew something she didn’t.  Hermione didn’t catch it, but she did frown in thought.

“I haven’t seen him in a while; one full week, in fact.  Has he been away on business?” she asked as she motioned for Draco to continue his ministrations on her head.

Draco paused before answering, “Not exactly.”

“Is he alright?”

“He will be,” answered Harry, sitting back and slouching.

“Read the notice, Potter,” Draco ordered with a smile to his mate.

Harry nodded and focused on the parchment in his hands.

‘ _By order of the Ministry of Magic, the honorable wizard presiding as Minister, Kingsley Shacklebolt, declares on this day and month, 20 October, in our year of magic 2005 that a Marriage Law has so been ordered._

_All eligible witches and wizards ranging in age from twenty to seventy must participate._

_Through Arithmancy and contractual agreement with proven Seers, the following witches and wizards are matched for optimum results in producing strong magical lines that will sustain the magical communities within England’s borders._

_Millicent Bulstrode and Theo Nott_

_Ginny Weasley and Gregory Goyle_

_Daphne Greengrass and Blaise Zabini_

_Tara Mass and Vincent Crabbe_

_Astoria Greengrass and Ron Weasley_ (That match caused Harry and Draco to raise an eyebrow.)

_Hermione Granger and Lucius Malfoy_.’

Harry didn’t read any more names, instead moving to the handwritten script from the Minister himself.

_‘Hermione,_

_Please accept my apologies for not immediately informing you of your match.  The council took an oath of secrecy and I wasn’t able to find a way around it._

_Regards, Kings’_

Hermione sat up. “I guess I should go face the music.”

Draco pulled her back, stopping her from standing. “Maybe you should go clean up first, yes?”

Her hands lifted to feel her hair standing on end and hanging in tangles down her back. Inhaling, she agreed. “Yes.”

Once gone, and after they heard the water of her bath, Harry turned to Draco, “Should we tell her?”

“No.  She’ll find out soon enough, but we should go and prepare father.  I’ve never seen him so unkempt.”

Knowing she would be in the bath for a while, they Floo’d to Malfoy Manor and entered the study to find Lucius pacing and running a hand through his normally perfectly coiffed head of luxurious hair.

“Father?”

Lucius stopped pacing and tried to focus on the young men in front of him. His eyes were dilated and his body twitched in a bird like manner.  His Veela would soon make an appearance and once that happened, there would be no turning back for him.  It would be over.  Lucius could recall when he had first met Hermione when she was second year. His Veela did not recognize its mate in a child. It wasn’t until she was an adult and he was working around her often that its dormancy was terminated and his mate was recognized.

Once Veela’s found their mates, their days were numbered to consummate with said mate.  If they were unable to consummate, for whatever reason, they would slowly turn into a screeching Veela with feathers, a beak and clawed feet to live out their lives as winged fowl.

Harry looked around and noticed two small white feathers sitting on the polished wood floors and raised his eyes in alarm.  Draco noticed too and turned to his father questioningly.  Lucius answered, “The sofa cushion, relax.”

Both boys did, in fact, relax, finding their way to the bar to pour themselves a drink.

“Have you read this morning’s paper, Father?”

Lucius shook his head. “I can’t focus enough to read the dratted thing!”

“Marriage Law was enacted,” Harry said noncommittally.

“You’re matched, father.”

Lucius stopped pacing.  A flash of absolute horror crossed his features, but soon passed to a stoic expression.  Sighing, he sipped his Brandy and sat gracefully in the leather wing-backed chair he’d inherited from his father.  “It doesn’t matter.  I’ve finally found my mate and will turn into a bird before I have to marry some witch the Ministry thinks I should impregnate.”

He wasn’t paying attention during his brief, but poignant pity party, so he missed the Floo activate and a cleaned up Hermione enter the room. 

It took only a second for her scent to infiltrate his senses.  “Hermione,” he whispered and closed his eyes.

He faced her slowly, smiling at her quizzical expression and tilted head. “You’re turning into a bird?”  she asked, as she’d only heard part of the conversation.

True to form, Hermione pondered the idea that Lucius would turn into a bird and she was to wed him, thus, she would have a bird to care for.  She wondered how Crooks would react to having a bird in the house.  Of course, she was picturing a small tweeting bird that would fit into a small cage, placed by a window perhaps; not the large Veela creature that would shriek and eat raw meat.

“I’ve never had a bird,” she said making Harry and Draco scrunch their faces with humored confusion.

Lucius, now caught up in her train of thought, responded by saying, “Why would you keep me as a bird?”

She looked at him like he was slow and said, “Because we’re to be married, Lucius.  Didn’t you read the papers this morning?  The Ministry has matched us!” she cried, clearly distraught.  “I’m so sorry; I know that you enjoy your time alone, and appreciate a good book in silence rather than the constant stream of consciousness chatter that would no doubt shatter the peace, but I promise, if you want to fly, I’ll let you out of the cage.”

_Laughter._

“Cage?” he asked.

“Well, yes, I can’t have a bird flying in the rafters of my home, Lucius!  Crooks would catch you and heaven knows he’s a good Kneazle, but he’s still a cat and I wouldn’t want you injured.”

“Your home?”

“Yes… I guess I could just come and visit if you wanted to stay here.  Or I could send Pippa over to make sure everything stayed clean.”

“I have house-elves, Hermione,” Lucius said now quirking his lips in humor.

She was nodding.  “Why are you turning into a bird exactly?”

“I’m a Veela-“

She interrupted. “Oh! I know! I was there when Draco told us everything!  It was so interesting!”

Lucius picked up where he left off. “I’ve found my mate, and-“

Hermione interrupted again.

“Oh no!  This is awful! ” She started pacing, thinking of a solution.  Perhaps, we could petition the Ministry.  Her friendship with Kingsley may prove to be beneficial in this area.

It wasn’t that she was a martyr; so unselfish that she would give up a chance at happiness on another’s whim, but this was nature.  It was cruel and unusual punishment to impose a wizards’s law on a magical creature who had no control over his mate.  

“Hermione,” Lucius called, slightly put out by her constant interruption.  He was also more than irritated at the smirks that his son and his mate wore at his predicament.

It was then that she noticed two feathers lying hapless on the floor.  Hermione spun on her heel, and cried, “Are you molting?!”

Draco and Harry both erupted into hearty laughs and body shaking joy.

Lucius sighed… again. “Is she always this… this…”

“Excitable?” Harry asked.

“Yes, she’s quite prone to lost causes and tantrums,” Draco added.

Lucius nodded, mentally preparing himself for a life with a Gryffindor.  She was emotional, animated, argumentative, and he suspected, passionate, too.  He was looking forward to every second of every minute of the rest of his life with this witch. Now, how to shut her up long enough to get a word in edgewise.

He was visibly relieved by his luck; he had been matched with his mate.  In fact, he felt damned lucky that the fates had seen to matching him with his mate. 

Lucius started by answering her question as he stood. “No, I’m not molting.” He walked slowly to her, stalking her almost, smirking as her eyes widened and her lips parted with surprise.

So far so good, he thought and continued to close the distance. 

“Mr. Malfoy?” she asked.

He quirked an eyebrow, but didn’t stop. “Mr. Malfoy is it?”

Lucius was now stopped and standing so close to her he could feel the heat from her body.

“I-I-I… you… Aren’t you worried?” she asked.

He shook his head and just as she was about to speak again, no doubt, rant and rave about his lack of worry, he leaned down, wrapping his arms around her small waist and pressing his lips to hers.

The second he felt the warmth of her skin, his Veela sang.  His skin stopped crawling, his mind settled and his hormones raced. 

Hermione was completely taken aback.  This was the same man who she had been completely and utterly in love with for over a year.  He was kissing her, touching her, pressing his hard body against hers. 

She was loving it. 

When his tongue swiped gently across her lower lip, she opened to him, letting the taste of him consume her.

Breathing through their noses and trying to merge into one body, his hand slipped down her thigh to pull her knee up as high on his hip as it would go.  With Hermione at an angle, her arms wrapped tightly around his neck, he lifted her to cross her ankles at his back. 

Lucius rolled his hips, grinding his cock into her center. 

Hermione moaned and tightened her legs.  As lost as she was in the moment, a thought occurred to her.  It was a whisper of logic that prompted her to pull away, only enough to see a shadow of his face in her periphery.  “Your mate, Lucius.  What about her?”

He captured her lips again with ardor then answered her question while he made his way into the hallway.  “You’re my mate, pet.”

He didn’t give her time to respond, he Disapparated on the spot and landed them naked in the center of his bed.  Her legs were spread for him and they were moving in a rhythm both were comfortable with. 

Hermione could feel his hard, slick cock heavy with desire, and she wanted him inside of her.  She was not experienced by any means.  She’d had one sexual partner after University.  She’d come back and run into Seamus Finnegan, who had introduced her to a world of sexual give and take.  Their relationship had lasted seven months and they parted on friendly terms.  From that short time, and comparing it to this, she knew Lucius was much bigger than Seamus and that he would stretch her beautifully.

“Lucius, please,” she begged, wanting to feel him.

He didn’t react like she thought he would.  Instead, he stopped and looked at her. “You’re my mate.  You’re mine, Hermione.  We’re matched by the Ministry.  If we do this, consummate like this, at this time, we will be bonded - our souls will be connected.  There will be no divorce or infidelity; we will not be parted.  Even in death, we will be together, Hermione.

Hermione cupped his face and looked into the gray eyes she’d been dreaming about for what seemed like eternity. “I know.”

She gasped for breath a moment later as Lucius thrust inside her, the tip of his cock hitting her cervix.  It was both pain and pleasure for her and she couldn’t decide whether she wanted to spread her legs farther apart or wrap them more securely around his waist.  Either way, she didn’t want him to stop.  “Yes!” she hissed.

_Fifteen years later_

Ivy Malfoy walked onto the train with a jutted chin and squared shoulders.  She would not be afraid, her father was watching after all. 

She turned her head and felt the soft breeze push back her platinum blonde hair from her pretty face.  Her gray eyes found their echoes on the face of her proud father.   Lucius nodded to his daughter while pulling his sniffling wife close to his body.

Hermione tried to control herself, but her baby was leaving and it was harder than she thought it would be.  She looked up and smiled at her eldest daughter; the spitting image of both Ivy’s half brother, Draco and her father, Lucius.

“Mummy?”

Hermione looked down at the tearful little boy. “Yes, love.”

“I don’t want her to go!” Hyperion cried.

Lucius bent to pick up his son for comforting. 

The little boy wove his fingers through his papa’s hair and the family left the station to return to their home.

_Later that evening_

The Floo coughed and spit a rolled parchment onto the table.  Hermione put down her book and unrolled the missive.  Smiling, she waddled to where her husband was sitting and waiting for her to share the information.

“Well?” he snapped, sitting back to give her room to sit on his lap.  Her belly was now too large for them both to sit straight.  

His large hand went automatically to the swell of her stomach.  “You owe me foot massages at my whim for two weeks!” she said waving the parchment in his face.

“Gryffindor,”  he groaned.

 


End file.
